


Chiliad, Again

by FTW_Coin



Category: TwitchRP
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Dont mind me just doing my part to help fill in the twitch RP shaped hole in Ao3, Foresters arc surprised me so much jfc, Jerry breaks, Ken/Jerry there if ya squint, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Stabbing, The showdown we almost had, TwitchRP - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-10-27 23:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20768522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FTW_Coin/pseuds/FTW_Coin
Summary: Forester had almost gotten away with it, but Jerry was there to make sure he wouldn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And this is the beginning of many, MANY upcoming drabbles, oneshots, rewritten scenes, and so much more. Mark my words and be ready. It's gonna be a wild ride, everyone

"I wasn't going to kill you, Fingle- Why'd you think I'd do something like that?"

Silence 

Paul's hand reaches down to his hip, pistol slipping into the belt which contained a number of other tools for work. "Wasn't gonna kill ya." Fingle, however, is visibly unconvinced, eyes watching Paul's every motion. "Wasn't gonna kill ya." 

"Just gonna seriously hurt me, huh?" He asks in a joking manner, though his nervous tone and chuckle gives him away. 

"Nah, no, I'd never, Fingle. You know me, bud."

The officer, however untrue to his word, casually reaches behind his hip as he speaks, withdrawing an intimidating hunting knife, apparently brand new. Fingle stands his ground, though. Paul wouldn't hurt him. Hell, he was probably the safest man in the city.

"I just wanted to carve you up a little, is all," he added, before lunging forward and driving the knife from the base of the handle into the other man's abdomen. The blade disappeared into him, blood leeching out and staining his teal sweater instantly.

"Gagh-!" Fingle choked out, knees giving out and making him collapse from the sudden pain combined with his previous injuries from climbing the mountain. Satisfied, Paul withdrew the knife from Fingle and arrogantly reached down, taking the hat that the other constantly wore. It'd make for a good keepsake.

Forester stood around for another moment, cleaning the blood off of the hunting knife and grinning in a rather unfamiliar manner. That is, unfamiliar to Fingle. He's never seen Paul look so... Morbidly pleased.The straw hat in his hands now had a smear of blood that had dribbled from the tip of the knife, staining the previously pristine surface. It humored Paul, really, how upset Fingle was from the moment he had taken it. 

"What the _hell, _Paul-! Ow! _Ow_!" came a strangled, frustrated grumble- more of a whine, really, which was typical of Fingle. "No-!" The officer ignored him and instead glances away, leaving the other right on the edge of Chilliad. "_No_!" Most of the country area was visible from here and with the sunset, it was rather peaceful. Surely there were worse ways to go. "Don't you d-" Blood fills his mouth and he gags, unable to keep panicking and verbally protesting.

It was after this that Forester left his rival, walking with an egotistical stride towards his beat up cruiser, not caring much about the state of it. There were dozens ways to explain the state of his cruiser, a fatal chase with Fingle being one of them. The knife, he wipes off and stores in the trunk beneath other items, alongside the hat.

The lieutenant was too deep in thought at the time to hear the deep grumble of a motorcycle engine far behind him on the cliff's edge, with Fingle's unconscious body between them both. He did hear, however, the strangled cry of Jerry the Breaker tumbling forwards onto the cliff, barely able to keep himself from sliding all the way back down.

There was a scream that followed this, a chilling scream of Jerry's fury which sent familiar chills down Forester's spine, followed by three gunshots. Hearing this, the officer dives behind the car, three bullets zooming by where he just was. A fourth hits his car, which could've easily been where his head was.

There's the sound of Jerry's heavily armoured run closing in, going right over Fingle's body, and before long, he's just on the other side of the car. Thinking quickly, Forester dives into the backseat, searching his dufflebag for the AK he carried with him now. Jerry's presence in Los Santos made most police carry class 3 weapons. 

There's a crackle from his radio as he's loading the gun, and Jerry pulls open the door. His haste, however, drowns out any reasonable thought, and he misses. The head, at least- a bullet still finds its way into Paul's left shoulder, shattering bone. He forces himself out of the car and lands on his back, only barely able to sit up before forcing himself to unload a round in Jerry's direction, only a few finding its mark, stuck in the armor. 

_"103 safety check?" _the radio says in response to Fingle's nearby medical. His right hand is coated in his own blood and slips against the radio before he's able to push the button. With his back against the car, he pants out: "_103 under heavy fire,_" then _"10-13, under fire from 10-96-01, requesting-"_ Jerry finds him. Paul can only scramble to his feet to try and avoid getting shot, but he's too slow. A burning pain fills his thigh. 

The AK in his left hand is useless, as his wounded shoulder makes it impossible to lift the weapon. _"-requesting a- additionals, Chilliad,"_ is all he can add before dropping the radio. The bullet in his thigh makes it painful to move, but his hopeless attempt at escape continues. 

Jerry was notorious among Los Santos police. His presence alone meant lethals were to be on hand. Class 3 weapons in every car. A shootout with him, especially over his friends, was an automatic 10-13. For Fingle, he wouldn't hesitate to fight off dozens of officers with only a pistol, for Dan, he'd happily get shot. And for Ken... Well for Ken, Jerry would do anything. 

But this, this was something different. It was more than personal. Fingle might die and at this point Jerry was seeing red. By now, he isn't even sure how many bullets he unloads in Forester's direction. He just knows that when he realizes what's happening, his finger still pulls the trigger, clicking repeatedly. Whether Paul was still alive or not, he couldn't tell. He hears sirens closing in. Sees flashing lights. All he knows how to do is run. 

So he does.

"Fingle, b- buddy, hey..." He rushes over and kneels by his friend's side, feeling for a pulse. Weak, but there. He can see a cruiser race down the side of the mountain, straight towards them. Moving quickly, he hoists Fingle over his shoulder and runs towards the stolen bike, revving and taking off. Everything was moving so fast. Fingle's draped over his back, one arm holding him tightly, the other steering. 

They make it to the base of the mountain, sweat and blood drenching Fingle's sweater and Jerry's armor. None of the police can manage to chase them down the mountain, thankfully, but the bike runs out of gas the minute they reach the road. 

Stowing it in a bush, he stops a local's car, throwing them out and laying Fingle in the backseat, speeding off. He calls the first person he can think of: Ken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any constructive criticism is more than welcome! I'm trying to improve myself as a writer, and it's really cool to see what you hooligans think :)


	2. Chapter 2

When Ken's phone goes off, it isn't exactly in a good spot. The hot, humid night air makes sweat roll down his back, flashing red and blue lights below reflecting off of the mist, which would soon undoubtedly turn to rain. Nevertheless, he answers, ready to speak in a low voice. 

He can make out instantly the faint growl of driving. It sounded like Fingle was with him, mumbling something that wasn't easy to hear over the phone. 

"Jer-?" 

_ "Ken? Listen, I- Something happened... it's Fingle. He's hurt Ken, he- he's hurt bad, a- and I don't know what to do, he might die and I don't- I don't know what to do- and I think-"_

He takes a shaking breath.

_ "I think I killed Forester."_

"Jerry, bud, you gotta slow down, I can't-"

"SASP! If anyone is in the store, please make yourself known!" 

"Cops here," Ken muttered, not directly into the phone, though he was sure Jerry could still hear. "Shit." And even from on the roof, he could hear Jason and Calvin talking to each other in anticipation, could see Donny waiting in the car in the near distance. 

"SASP," the officer says again. "Please make yourselves known!"

"Ping me, Jer," he says quietly into the phone before hanging up and setting it down, standing from his position. 

"Alright, alright, hands up officer! Well would you look at that! Officer Clive!"

He gets a text from Calvin: _'ALMOST READY!'_

"You still haven't finished the task from the _last _robbery, have you, officer?"

"Ken, I'm not-" He's cut off by a crackle from the radio, glancing up at the other, who nods, so he answers with the other hand still in the air:

_"Send it."_

And then:

_ "Negative. I got at least three high-priorities here, but no Jerry."_

Another response. Ken gets another text.

_ "Affirm, one K_e_nneth Tucky, the Meanager, Calvin Chao-"_

Then, everything happens at once.

"These pizza-flavored pringles... So CHAOTIC in flavor!"

By the time he finishes, Donny's already out front, honking and the pair runs out, practically jumping into the backseat of the SUV they had stolen minutes prior. Ken stays on the roof, pistol steady on Clive, who can do nothing at this point but watch, as always.

He motions the Axis members out with the gun. "You aren't-?" Calvin starts, but Donny doesn't hesitate, tires spewing damp gravel as they take off. Thankfully, Clive was the only officer to show up, and so there was only one target to keep track of. As the SUV drives off, Ken takes a breath, wary.

"Say officer, do you have any medical experience?"

* * *

"Fin- Fingle? You awake, bud...? Oh, no, oh god, you aren't, okay, that's okay, that's alright-" 

As good as Jerry was at hurting people, helping them was a completely different task altogether. Especially for someone like Fingle, and moreso in the dark. 

Although Jerry attempted to reach the old cabin, the car ran out of gas in only a few miles. They were at an angle in some muddy ditch in the middle of the night, no lights on and no running engine. The only light source he had was his dying phone.

Fingle, he had laid on the leather backseat, blood making the surface slippery. Without such experience, all he could do while waiting for Ken was to keep pressure on his abdomen, ignoring the mass of mosquitoes that revealed themselves in the swelteringly humid night. 

At this point, the only sign of life from his close friend was the laboring rise and fall of his chest, or the occasional groan, though he remained unconscious. Whatever knife Forester had used on him, it messed him up pretty bad- Must've been serrated. 

Lost in his thoughts for only a moment, he snaps back into focus upon hearing a car pull up nearby. Glancing out through the back window, he recognizes instantly the make of the car: a Crown Vic.

"No-" is all he can manage, reaching for his barely loaded pistol. How did they find him? Where did they come from, even? Crouching down below the seats, he prepares to make a final stand, gun held tightly in trembling hands.

"Jer'?"

Ken. It was Ken. Breathing a sigh of relief, he scrambles out of the car, gun still tight in his hand out of force of habit. "Ken?" It came across him only then how dry his voice was, worn out from hours of panic and fleeing. His arms are covered in Fingle's blood, though it was more than likely that Forester's was on him as well. Even some red locks of hair drenched in sweat stuck out from the head cover, if only slightly.

"I bought help," Ken says, pulling Clive out from the backseat as Jerry rushes over. "Officer Clive?" He questions, though he knows that there's no time to question why Ken took Clive, of all officers. 

"He's here to help us, Jerry. I already took his phone and radio. Nobody knows where he is. Chances are, they think he's filing paperwork over the Axis."

"He's in here," Jerry says, bringing the pair towards the stolen car. Thankfully, the only movement from Fingle had been his light breathing, the bleeding slower now but still scary. Clive nods. 

"I'll see what I can do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pizza flavored pringles are terrifying and disgusting  
change my mind


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love jcvd of the sasp

The first thing that Fingle notices when he wakes up is the smell.

Metallic and strong, the stench of the blood alone was enough to make him gag, eyes watering though his vision was blurry enough without his glasses, throat dry and rough like sandpaper. Even with the help of the dim morning light, it's difficult to make out his surroundings, though he could tell that there was someone laying next to him on top of the blankets. There was another figure in a chair across the room by the desk with a white shirt, but he makes out reddish blotches across the fabric. Suddenly, he can recognize the layout of the room: the old cabin.

It's hard to keep his eyes open, with both grogginess and dryness making it almost painful. Suddenly though, there's somebody else, a third person kneeling by the bed. A hand holds his head up, if only slightly, and the other brings a glass of cool water to his lips, from which he drinks slowly. When the water's gone, the person pulls the glass away, setting it on the small beside table. Finally, Fingle's eyes open wide enough for him to just be able to make out the stranger's face.

"Officer Cl...?" He starts quietly, cut off by his short breath.

"Shh," Clive shushes, "breathe, Fingle. I can't have you passing out on me again." Again?

He obliges, but the dull pain suddenly sharpens as he props back on the wall behind him. His hand finds its way to the bedside table to retrieve his glasses and put them on. He ignores the flurry of dust that follows.

He can see now that it was Jerry resting by him, still clad in heavy and blood-covered armor. He was on his side and thankfully relatively uninjured, save for the bullets caught in the vest. Even as he slept though, Fingle could tell something was wrong, with the way he restlessly shifted.

Glancing across the room now, he sees that it was Ken by the desk, arms crossed and eyes closed, lightly dozing with his head lolled back uncomfortably. There was a gun on the desk beside him, which would explain Clive. 

"-ingle?" He snaps out of his thought, realizing only now that Clive had been speaking to him. As he always is though, he seems pretty understanding and repeats his question. 

"You think you can talk to me a bit?" He asks softly, so as not to wake anyone else up. It was clear that he didn't want to push Fingle into talking.

He nods, then breathes out: "Y- yeah, I can."

"I just... I just want to figure out what happened. Do you know who it was? Any gangs that are out for you maybe, like the Ace of Spades?"

He shakes his head. 

"Daisy's group?"

He shakes his head again. Of course it wouldn't be Daisy.

"What abou-"

"It wasn't a gang," he interrupts after clearing his sore throat. "I need- Wh... Paul. Where's Paul? I was with him, Clive, I remember he was there..."

The officer takes a breath and hesitates before replying.

"Lieutenant Forester is currently in the ICU with twelve bullets in him."

His tone changes over this, Fingle notices. It's the first time he's heard any real level of anger in Clive's voice. 

"Paul's... He's been shot? Do you know by who?" Fingle's own tone hardens over this. Of course, he may be Paul's playful rival, but that didn't mean he wanted the other man dead or shot _twelve times. _Not... Not anymore, at least.

Instead of replying, Clive only motions towards Jerry, who was still asleep. 

"Jerry..." He mutters, rubbing his closed eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in a clear confusion.

"Why?" He asks Clive.

"I... I really don't know. He didn't talk about it much. Just seemed rattled, you know?"

They stay silent for a moment. Fingle glances towards Ken again.

"Why did you stay?" He asks, voice less tender now, thanks to the water.

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"Well, it's clear that Ken was supposed to be on watch, just fell asleep on the job. You could've left a while ago by now, couldn't you? Or at least radioed us in?"

"I've been on radio."

"You told them about us?"

He shakes his head. "As far as they know, I've been filing over at PD. You and Jerry mysteriously disappeared over in by the south side of the lake, not the other side of Chiliad where we are."

"But why...?"

He answers after some short consideration, as though concerned about his wording. "Listen, something's been up with Paul. The past week, he's been different. More secretive than usual. And every time he's caught your group, he requests to take you alone. My guess is that he finally did?"

"He caught up to me in the sewers, convinced the other officer to leave the two of us alone. Are you suggesting that Paul had something more to do with this?"

"I'm not suggesting anything. I just figured that if he did, it'd be a bad idea to turn you all in without hearing your side. What exactly do you remember?"

"I remember..." He hesitates, then explains what he can. The sewer chase, running out of gas, the encounter with the Vipers member, processing, agreeing on dinner, Paul's concern that Jerry would show up, being driven to a garage, then... That was it. The last he remembered, Paul had missed the turn into the garage. That was it.

By the end of his explanation, his throat was dry again, voice scratchy. Clive brings him more water. 

"I see... When Jerry wakes up, we'll have to figure something out. Something about this just isn't right."

"Clive," Fingle says quietly, which alone is unusual for him.

"It wasn't Paul. He wouldn't do something like this, it wasn't him."

"I know, Fingle."

* * *

It's less than an hour after he changes Fingle's bandages and convinces him to go back to sleep when Jerry wakes up. It's with a bit of a start, which is usual, but it makes Clive jump some as well, accustomed now to the silent room. Their eyes meet for a moment, but when it's evident to Jerry that they're in no immediate danger, he relaxes some, rubbing his eyes only to find his gloved hands still coated in flaking blood. Clive keeps his eyes on Jerry as he evaluates his surroundings, and then the man that laid next to him. 

After a moment of cautious examination of the wound's treatment, there's a nod and he slides off of the bed carefully, so as to not awaken the other. Jerry motions towards Clive, then to the door, to which he nods. 

They're outside together soon after, sharing the porch space with the breezy morning air between them, surprisingly cool and dry compared to the night's soaked heat. 

"I'm guessing you have questions," Jerry starts abruptly after a moment. 

"I do."

"Then ask."

"Why? Why did you do it?"

"Because my friend was in danger."

"What do you mean, 'in danger?'" 

"Fingle was stabbed by one of you, Clive. Hell, how do I know that you aren't in contact with Forester, ratting us out? What, you give up on taking care of us the legal way? That why you were so compliant with staying here?"

"I haven't been in contact with anyone but dispatch every couple of hours. My tracker's deactivated, I left my phone in my cruiser, I'm the only cop that seems to know this place exists, and we're too far away from civilization for me to have gone and found someone and be back in time for you to wake up.

"And I'm not able to even try to be in contact with Forester because you seemed to think it was a good idea to put twelve bullets in him, a good friend of mine, so why don't you start talking before I do radio in your location? My friend might die. My friend might die and I still don't know why, Jerry."

.

That was fair.

Jerry's never really heard Clive get angry at anybody. Normally, he was the most collected cop on the force, but what happened to Forester really got to him.

"Okay, okay, I... I still don't know the full details. But I think I know what happened."

Jerry explains first the stabbing of Whiskey a few days prior, then how often Forester wanted to be alone with Fingle. How he believed the sewer chase went down, then skipped to his point of view of the most recent stabbing.

"I almost fell all the way back down, but when I got up there and I saw Fingle's body, I just... I lost it, Clive. I don't remember what happened, I just remember pulling the trigger again, and again, over and over until I couldn't..." He takes a shaky breath. "Until I ran out. I couldn't even recognize him, Clive, I couldn't tell if he was alive, I-"

Why this near kill bothered Jerry so much more than any other, Clive wasn't sure. 

"Jerry, bud, it's okay. Paul's alive, just still in surgery. He's been in since last night, but he's alive."

The breath of relief from Jerry sounded so shockingly... Human. Moreso than any of his usual worried or scared tones. Clive realized then that he wasn't talking to Jerry the Breaker at this point, but talking to someone entirely different. Jerry Jones, a human being.

"Alright," Clive says in his softer voice. "What do you want me to do now, Jerry?"

"I want you," he starts after pondering the question for a moment.

"I want you to radio me in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you! I intended for this time be the last chapter, but I figured I may as well add a fourth to tie everything up! I have some JCVD drabbles in mind first, though
> 
> Also: https://youtu.be/YX1Jvx8TEGw

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading- Another chapter is in the works and I'll have it (or my next work) ready when I'm not super busy with uni. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> Also PS the real scenes are right here:  
Fingle: https://clips.twitch.tv/CrackyConcernedSrirachaGOWSkull  
Paul: https://clips.twitch.tv/HeadstrongStylishDonutOSkomodo  
Jerry: https://clips.twitch.tv/VivaciousConcernedAsteriskSaltBae


End file.
